Fable: The Return
by Santo Caballero
Summary: It has been twenty years since the fall of the Crawler. Albion is fighting a brutal war against the nation of Samarkand. Amidst the chaos of warfare, an ancient, demonic being is making its satanic return to the world. More detailed summary inside. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything but the original characters that were created for this story. Everything else that is even remotely related to the Fable series belongs to their respectable owners. **

**With that said, here is my first Fable fanfic! Please, give me tips and suggestions. They help a lot! Thank, guys (and girls)! **

Prologue

_It has been twenty-one years since the New Hero King (aka the Hero of Brightwall) led a glorious revolution against his tyrannical brother. It has been twenty years since he led the Kingdom of Albion against the Crawler and wiped the Darkness from the face of the earth. It has been twenty years since he quelled a new wave of revolutionaries inspired by General Solomon Turner, the former commander of the Royal Army. _

_After these numerous threats were eliminated, the Kingdom of Albion flourished under the reign of their benevolent monarch. The people were given freedoms and human rights that they could never have even dreamed of before. The New Hero King had ordered Professor Ernest Faraday's Clockwork Island destroyed in order to "prevent mankind from becoming too technologically advanced for its own good". Yet Albion's Industrial Revolution continued to progress. The Royal Army had recovered from its state of instability during the reign of King Logan and the war against the Crawler. Under the guidance of the New Hero King, it was finally restored to its former glory. Soldiers were now equipped with better training and gear. New generals were appointed, and military corruption became highly uncommon._

_And the royal family itself continued to prosper. Just one month after the Crawler's defeat, the beloved wife of the New Hero King, Queen Annabella, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. The newborn princess was named Adelia._

_Everything was peaceful. Albion seemed to have been finally freed of the terrifying threats that constantly endangered its existence for hundreds if years. _

_But this new era of peace would quickly be shattered. _

_Six years ago, a trained assassin attempted to eliminate the New Hero King under the order of the totalitarian ruler of Samarkand, Kadar Al-Iblis. While the assassination attempt was a failure, Samarkand's assault on the Kingdom of Albion was not over. Just two days after the assassination attempt, a small group of Samarkand's soldiers set off dozens of explosive charges on Auroran soil. The attack nearly destroyed Albion's military fort in Shifting Sands and took the lives of many brave soldiers who had been stationed there. The surviving soldiers retreated into the City of Aurora where they gathered reinforcements and ventured back to the fort. While they did not find any enemies there, the fort had been heavily damaged by the explosives, and the corpses of the fallen soldiers now were scattered across the area. Samarkand's assaults were acts of war. And despite numerous attempts at peace, Samarkand relentlessly continued with its deadly attacks on Aurora._

_In response, the New Hero King launched a massive offensive against Samarkand. Albion's soldiers marched over Aurora's western mountains and across the rocky border of Samarkand itself. They raided numerous towns and villages and slaughtered every man, woman, and child who dared to resist them. The infamous War in the West had begun. Yet Samarkand's soldiers proved themselves to be far more powerful than the Hero of Brightwall had expected. They were heavily armed and had the home-field advantage. They continued to use brutal guerilla tactics against the Albion Royal Army, slowly pushing Albion's forces back._

_The War in the West has continued to this day — six years after Samarkand's attack on Aurora. Albion's soldiers have been pressed all the way back to Samarkand's eastern border. Due to war circumstances, military corruption has become quite common once again. And the civilians of both Albion and Aurora are being heavily taxed in order to cover war expenses. Civil unrest has intensified over the last six years, and the social stability of the Kingdom is slowly collapsing._

_But while the Kingdom of Albion is focused primarily on the War in the West, an ancient threat is making its gruesome return to the world. And it may be too great for even the all-powerful Hero King to handle._


	2. Chapter 1

**Hey, guys! Here's Chapter 1. Once again, give me any tips you may have. Thank you very much!**

**DISCLAIMER: I only own my original characters. I don't own anything else.**

Chapter 1

_The Northern Wastes; it had changed so much since the Hero of Oakvale's final battle with Jack of Blades in the fiery plane of Archon's Folly. After the great battle had ended, the Bronze Gate was immediately closed by the legendary Hero and guardian of Snowspire Village, Sythe, for unknown reasons. The Northern Wastes slowly rebuilt its connections with Albion, and all seemed well._

_But when Sythe disappeared, everything appeared to collapse. The fall of the Heroes' Guild plunged society into a period of chaos. Albion's links with the Northern Wastes were shattered, leaving the Northern Wastes alone to fend for itself. But the people of Snowspire Village did not give up hope. As Albion rose from the ashes of pandemonium and entered the Enlightenment era, the residents of Snowspire were slowly beginning to develop their own unique culture and society as well. They became completely independent and began building other small settlements across their frozen lands. One of their leaders, Nicolas Britanov (who would later come to be known as "Nicolas the Great"), founded the monarchal government of the Northern Wastes, creating the Tsardom of Snowspire and successfully becoming the land's first Tsar. Snowspire Village itself evolved into the magnificent Snowspire City. The city became the capital of the tsardom. Much like how the Hero of Bowerstone had founded the Albion Royal Army when the Kingdom of Albion was formed, Nicolas created his own armed forces as well. Sworn to defend the people and to fight enemies without fear or mercy, the Snowspire Army was a force to be reckoned with._

_It has been three-hundred years since the reign of Tsar Nicolas. Nicolas's descendent, Vladimir, now rules as Tsar with a firm and respectful hand. Despite the Tsardom's own form of prosperity and technological advancement, it has not had any type of contact with Albion in hundreds of years. The old ways have been lost, and the location of the Bronze Gate has been forgotten as well._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Frostwood, Tsardom of Snowspire (Northern Wastes)<strong>_

The snow gracefully fell from the infinite clouds to the icy floors of Frostwood. The gray skies loomed over the thick wilderness – ugly, yet beautiful all the same. The howling of a wolf rang softly in the distance. The magnificence of the atmosphere was undeniable.

But the peace and quietness of the region was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of crunching snow beneath the feet of two individuals. A man and a woman dashed through the trees. Their hands were locked together, and they each flashed joyous smiles of love and happiness. Snow and icy particles clung to the furs on their clothing as they ran. Steam elegantly flowed from their mouths with every breath.

The couple came to an icy clearing near the edge of a steep hillside. The man swiftly stopped and pulled the woman towards him. He gazed at crumbs of snow that gently fell upon her long black hair. She had a body that seemed to have been molded by angels. By Avo, she was beautiful.

The man softly kissed her lips and neck, caressing her body at the same time. "Anya…" he tenderly whispered to her between kisses.

Anya moaned in pleasure. But just after a few moments of intimacy, she pulled away. "No, Roman," she said to the man. Her Northern accent was delicate, unique, and distinctive. It added to her charm. "We can't do this."

The man let out a heavy sigh. "And why is that?" he asked in a somewhat frustrated tone.

"It is dangerous out here!" Anya pointed to the frozen thicket behind Roman. "These woodlands are infested with Frost Balverines!"

"I'll protect you." Roman took Anya's hand and pulled her back into his arms. "I'll keep you warm. I swear to Avo, I will! Out here, we don't have to worry about your father finding us together." Roman affectionately gave Anya another kiss. "Come on. Let us stay out here."

Anya stopped as though she was considering what her lover had just said. But in the end, she resolved to disagree with him. "No, Roman!" she whispered. "We have to go back to Snowspire City! I honestly do not feel safe here. We could find another way to be together. I just can't stand coming out here!"

Roman squeezed Anya's arms tightly. "No," he muttered. "Stay. Please!"

"Stop it!" Anya demanded in response to Roman's near aggressive actions. She pushed the man away from her.

Roman had not expected such a reaction. Anya's push forced him back to the edge of the hillside. He did not even have enough time to cry for help before he was sent tumbling down the snowy rise. His body was thrown about like a rag doll as he fell. He broke through the icy thicket at the hill's bottom, his face planted into the soft blanket of snow that covered Frostwood's floor.

Anya put her hand over her mouth in shock. "Roman!" she called as she approached the edge of the hill where her lover had commenced his fall. "Are you there? I'm so sorry! I am so sorry!"

A gust of wind rushed through the air, sending a thin wave of snow across Roman's body. The frost rushing against his face awoke him. Snow clung to his clothing, his skin, and his dark brown hair. He slowly propped himself up on one elbow, wiping the snow from himself. He could hear Anya's calls. "I am alright!" he replied. "It's okay!" He stood to his feet and treaded forward through the snow. His eyes suddenly widened. "Anya!" he hollered. "Get down here quickly!"

"What is it?" Anya asked.

"Just get down here! There is something you must see!"

It took a few moments for Anya to reach the bottom of the hill. Roman had left a form of pathway in the snow when he fell, so she used it to get down quicker. The hillside was covered with ice and rocks. There were a few times where she nearly fell down herself. But eventually, she was able to reach her lover. "We really must get back to Snowspire City." she told Roman.

Roman pointed forward without responding to his lover's words. "Look."

The woman followed Roman's gaze. For the first time in her life…she was speechless. Before the couple was a massive dome-like structure that appeared to have been crafted during the days of the Old Kingdom of Albion. Old Kingdom architecture had become an extremely rare sight in the Northern Wastes. Since the days of the Hero of Oakvale, storms, war, and industrialization had destroyed much of what had remained of Old Kingdom structures.

Yet here was a perfectly preserved piece of ancient culture. How could it have remained there for such a long period of time? Did anyone even know about it?

"Come on, my dear." Roman said, taking Anya's hand and pulling her forward towards the dome.

"No! We have no idea what that is! It could be dangerous!"

"You're always concerned about danger!" Roman argued. "I will not let anything happen to you. We have just stumbled upon something that nobody in Snowspire could even imagine. Let's see what it is!"

After a few moments of thought, Anya reluctantly agreed to join Roman in exploring the mysterious Old Kingdom structure. They pushed through the wilderness towards the dome, finally reaching a long stone staircase that led to its center. "I…I think I remember this." Anya said quietly as they made their way up the steps.

"You remember this?" Roman asked curiously. "You've been here before?"

"No, no. I remember learning of this in school. Do you recall the history books speaking of a place called 'Archon's Shrine'? Where the mighty Hero of Oakvale gathered the needed souls to open the Bronze Gate and defeat Jack of Blades once and for all?"

Roman grinned and kissed Anya on the cheek. "That is just a myth, my dear." he stated. "None of those places are real."

The couple then reached the top of the staircase. They set their eyes upon the massive heart of the dome. Three strange stones bearing odd symbols of Old were set up at each side of the structure, forming a triangle. The dome's floor was smooth and covered by only a very thin sheet of ice. Yet the most attention-grabbing aspect was not the architecture…it was the frozen body of a man at the dome's center.

Anya shrieked loudly, only to have her mouth swiftly covered by her lover. "Do not scream." Roman whispered. "It could attract unwanted attention."

Anya pushed Roman away. "We need to go back now!" she said with a tear slowly rolling down her cheek.

Roman shook his head. "Just wait!" he exclaimed. "I need to find out what is going on here!" Without awaiting a response from his partner, Roman slowly approached the corpse that lay in front of him. The man's body was completely frozen, meaning he had probably been there for at least a day or two. Various wounds (some abnormally large) covered his body, appearing to have been inflicted by wolves. "He was attacked by animals." Roman stated.

"And if we do not leave, we will be next!" Anya shouted.

Roman ignored her and continued searching the man's body. The man appeared to have bled to death due to his wounds. Yet the one thing that truly caught Roman's eye was the disturbing tattoo on the man's forehead. It almost looked to be a cultist tattoo. The design was very sinister…yet beautiful at the same time.

"Are you done yet!" Anya yelled angrily. "Please, I want to leave!"

"Just hold on!" Roman began searching through the man's coat, almost immediately coming across a small journal. He quickly flipped through the pages. Only the first page contained writing. The script was written in a different language. "Anya, look at this."

"Just put it down, Roman!"

Roman began reading the text aloud. "Yaan noxis siun…forbidel retornel…yell denoxin eusel." These odd terms were followed by one of Roman's charming laughs. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Anya was on the verge of sobbing. "Roman," she murmured. "I'm scared!"

Just as the words rolled from the lady's tongue, a blinding stream of light was fired upward from each of the three ancient stones. The lights merged at the top of the dome. "Anya!" Roman bellowed. He sprinted towards her and pushed her to the floor, laying over her to protect her from whatever was to come.

A dark, rumbling noise rang as the earth suddenly began to shake. The deafening sound of two giant metal objects rubbing together screamed through the silent atmosphere of Frostwood. Not far from the dome, two gigantic bronze gates slowly opened. Deep, booming laughter thundered across the skies. Roman and Anya did their best to call for help. But the monster that emerged from the gates ended their cries in mere seconds.

The Bronze Gate had been reopened.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ravenscar Keep, Ravenscar Island, Kingdom of Albion<strong>_

Ravenscar Keep was especially cold and frightening on that day. It was not easy to live as one of the elite soldiers that served as the prison's guards. But it was better to be a prison guard than to be a fighting on the frontlines in Samarkand.

At the deepest, coldest, and darkest depths of the prison were Albion's most dangerous madman – murderers, rapists, and cultists. Chained by the wrists and ankles to the walls, the mobility of these monstrous human beings was limited.

One of these madmen, a notorious cultist by the name of Henry Von Blättern, was hysterically laughing as though he had just experienced one of the best moments of his life. Henry was a mid-height, weak man with long, overgrown black hair and a beard that perfectly matched his unkempt life in prison. Across his forehead was a mysterious tattoo. It was a cultist tattoo – one that appeared to be very sinister…yet beautiful all the same. "HE'S BACK!" Von Blättern wheezed through his laughter. "HE'S BACK!"

Henry's laughter was causing disruption amongst the other prisoners. Many began moaning in pain. Others screamed for help. This alarmed the nearby soldiers who were standing guard at Von Blättern's block. Six of the soldiers marched through the cold, stone hallways that led to the notorious cultist's darkened cell. Their shining cuirasses, their fearful ornate helmets, their glistening Master turret rifles, and their spotless boots; these soldiers exemplified Albion's best.

Making their way down the metal steps that led to his block, the soldiers came to a halt in front of his chamber. "What the hell are you going on about now, Von Blättern?" one of the soldiers asked.

Von Blättern pressed his face against the this metal bars that kept him imprisoned. "THE MASTER'S BACK!" he screeched. "THE MASTER'S BACK! He will collect his Chosen and give them eternal life! And rest of Albion with **DIE! **HE'S BACK!"

One of the soldiers cocked an eyebrow behind his steel mask. "Well," he remarked. "Never heard this tale before."

"You're right." replied the officer that appeared to be in command of the six. "Fetch Lieutenant Hadley. He may wish to hear this filthy madman's tale."

A sinister smile spread across Von Blättern's face, revealing his rotting teeth. "Albion will burn! Mark my words! It will burn!"


	3. Chapter 2

**THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEW! :) I've taken the advice given and made an attempt at describing the mysterious cultist tattoo that several people seem to share in common...**

**Also, I've fixed a few typos in the prologue and added romance to the themes, as there will be A LOT of romance later on. But don't worry if you're someone who like action more. I plan on including every theme in this story. Anway, here is Chapter 2. This will most likely be the last short chapter. From now on, I plan on making chapters much longer. Again, thank you guys so much for reading! Criticism and suggestions are welcomed. As usual, I own nothing but original characters. Enjoy! :)**

Chapter 2

_**Bowerstone Castle, Bowerstone, Kingdom of Albion**_

The sounds of clashing steel rang throughout the combat training room at the eastern wing of Bowerstone Castle. The training room was well-heated by the marble fireplace. It was not too hot, yet not too cold. The bright autumn sun shined its golden light through the windows and upon the checkered floor.

The eight polished suits of armor that lined the room's walls seemed to watch as Princess Adelia, the only daughter of the New Hero King, and her renowned combat trainer, Sir Benn Finn, sparred. Adelia was a fair young lady. Her long, dark red hair wafted through the air as she struck. Her deep brown eyes, nearly identical to those of her father, glistened in the light. Her delicate lips and soft facial complexion complimented her lean, hourglass figure.

Albion's beloved princess had unfortunately chosen to wear a regal, elegant, and softened dress to her training that morning. While magnifying her beauty, it restrained her flexibility and contained her body heat to an uncomfortable extent. Small droplets of sweat were sliding from her hair down her forehead. She stopped swinging her blade and attempted to catch her breath, holding the sword with both of her hands. "Sir Benn," she said to her instructor between breaths. "I need a bit of rest!"

"Nonsense!" Benn replied, waving his sword over his head in an elaborate manner, tossing it from one hand to the other. "You're the daughter of Albion's Hero King! Your father was already leading a revolution at your age!"

Benn had changed little over the past twenty years. He had aged a bit; wrinkles and gray hairs were becoming more common with every passing year. Yet he still possessed his charming tone and charismatic attitude. Aside from minor aging qualities and his recently gained knighthood, he was still the same old Benn Finn.

Adelia rolled her eyes. "But I am not a Hero!"

Sir Benn lowered his blade to his side and pushed his thick blond hair back. "You're not?" he asked. "But…How could you be so sure?"

"Well," Adelia began. She paused and stared at the floor, not truly knowing how to answer the question. "I…I don't–"

Suddenly, without warning, Sir Benn lunged forward and swung his blade at the princess. He used every ounce of his strength to support the attack. Adelia, purely responding to her instructor's surprising move, dodged the attack with unnatural ease by ducking beneath Sir Benn's blade and swinging her own sword at his torso. Benn, expecting this, moved to block his student's hit with his weapon. When the blades collided, Benn's entire sword shattered into dozens of small pieces.

Benn raised what remained of his sword's handle to the light. "Yes…" he mumbled.

Adelia stood back in shock, dropping her weapon to the floor with wide eyes. "I…I couldn't have…It's not possible!"

"Oh, but it is, Princess Adelia." Sir Benn stated. "Your father did something similar to his instructor's weapon during his youth."

"Your blade must have been weak!" Adelia argued, knowing exactly what Benn was thinking.

Benn grinned and shook his head. "No, my dear," he said. "The blade was quite strong. And you went and bloody broke it as though it was made of glass. An eerily perfect reaction to a surprise attack, supernatural strength…those are both elements that a Hero would–"

"But I am not a Hero!" the princess shouted. Anger was flaring in her eyes.

"You keep saying that." said the princess's combat instructor. "But I may be convinced that you are."

Adelia sighed and put a hand on her stomach, slowly catching her breath. Her chest slowly pumped with every pant of air. She wiped a bit of the sweat from her forehead. "I'm…I'm not a Hero. I don't want to be a Hero."

Just as Benn was about to reply, the training room's doors were opened by an old, plump man with a bald head wearing the formal attire of one of Bowerstone Castle's more significant servants. This was Hobson – the man who had served as the castle's head butler since the New Hero King's revolution against Logan. Hobson was becoming very old…almost too old to serve as a member of the royal staff. Yet his passion for the royal family (as well as the luxurious lifestyle that came with serving them) kept him going as though he was still young. "Sir Benn," said the old butler. "You have been summoned to the Throne Room by the Hero King himself."

"Yeah?" Benn asked. "And what for?"

"Reaver has requested an audience with the king." Hobson replied.

Benn shook his head. "I don't expect this to be fun." he muttered. "Adelia," he said to the princess. "I'll return as soon as possible. Then we will finish our discussion."

The princess folded her arms with a raised eyebrow. "You speak as though I would _want_ to finish the discussion. In reality, I never wanted it to begin."

"Well, even a princess cannot always get what she wants." Benn stated. He turned to Hobson. "Lead me there, Hobson."

_**Frostwood, Tsardom of Snowspire (Northern Wastes)**_

Dogs barked loudly. Several huskies bolted over the snowy topography of Frostwood. Three Snowspire Army soldiers followed them closely on horseback. Their dark blue uniforms blended with the gray atmosphere of the icy wilderness. Their thick fur collars encased their body heat as the freezing winds rushed against their faces. Their shining spurs rang with every movement of their polished boots.

At the head of the trio was Captain Kazimir Orlov – a officer of the Snowspire Army. He was a broad, mid-height man with sharp facial features and eyes so dark that they nearly appeared black. His face was clean-shaven and untouched by his head of thick black hair. He proudly wore five hard-earned metals on his overcoat across his chest. His finely crafted cutlass was sheathed at his waist, its blade reflecting all nearby objects.

The dogs stopped near the icy clearing of which Anya and Roman had stood just hours ago. They began sniffing about the area, searching for the couple's scent.

"Bloody dogs!" complained the soldier riding to the left of Captain Orlov, rearing his horse. He was a tall man with a thick mustache and various explosive weapons attached to his belt. His eyes were hidden by the visor on his shako. "We'll never find these people!"

The third soldier, a mid-height man with a thin beard, thought to himself for a moment before speaking. "Who is it that we are searching for, Captain?" he asked his commander. He, too, drew his mount to a halt.

Orlov took a deep breath as he pulled on his horse's reins. "We are searching for a Mister Roman Witko and a Miss Anya Mihalovich." he replied in a deep, accented voice. "They were reported missing this morning…shortly after the loud screeching noises that were emitting from this wilderness."

"Anya Mihalovich?" asked the second soldier. "The daughter of the banker?"

"Da!" Orlov watched the dogs carefully as he spoke. "Witko and Mihalovich had a secret relationship brewing behind the backs of the Mihalovich family. They often snuck into Frostwood for privacy."

Each of the huskies suddenly began barking. One of them dashed for the hillside, followed by the others. The soldiers rode after them, their horses nearly slipping on the icy rocks that covered the slope. When the trio reached the bottom, they treaded through the thick layer of snow with their steeds, following the huskies closely. It was not long before they reached the dome.

Orlov gazed upon the massive structure. The lights were still beaming from each of the three ancient stones. What was it? Magic? Some form of sorcery? "PREPARE YOURSELVES!" he shouted to his men as he unsheathed his cutlass. The dogs did not move. It was almost as though they sensed something…wicked within the dome. They watched the structure intensively, ignoring the thin layer of snow that was building up on their fur.

The other two soldiers followed their orders with haste. "What in Avo's name is this?" one of them whispered as he pulled his flintlock pistol from its holster.

Orlov dismounted his horse. "We're about to find out."

_**Ravenscar Keep, Ravenscar Island, Kingdom of Albion**_

The Torture Chamber was the coldest, darkest, and most frightening region of Ravenscar Keep. Even Ravenscar's most fearless inmates shivered at the thought of that horrendous stone hall.

Lieutenant Hadley, Ravenscar Keep's warden, stood before the Torture Chamber's bloodied chairs with four elite soldiers standing proudly behind him. His dark gray uniform complimented his polished boots and gloves. He was humble, honorable, and brave.

Outside the Torture Chamber, two soldiers hauled the bound Henry Von Blättern over the dirtied floors of the prison's cold halls by the arms. An additional three soldiers walked directly behind the immobilized prisoner with their weapons drawn in case he made any form of escape attempt. Von Blättern's feet dragged over the floor as he was pulled through the gaping archway that led to the Torture Chamber.

"Henry Von Blättern…" Lieutenant Hadley murmured as the madman was brought into the Chamber.

"Lieutenant Hadley!" Von Blättern hissed back in response to Hadley's words. His mischievous grin slowly grew into a malicious smile that spread across his face from ear to ear. His rotten teeth and filthy breath revealed themselves to the soldiers. "I never thought I'd look into your corrupted eyes again!"

With a stern expression, Hadley pointed to one of the chairs. "Secure him in the chair." he ordered his men.

The two soldiers carrying the madman nodded and dragged Von Blättern to the chair, slamming him up against the back of the seat. "They call you 'elite soldiers'?" Von Blättern said aloud as the soldiers began strapping his wrists to the arms of the chair. "The strongest and bravest in Albion? HA! We'll see how brave you are when the Master unleashes his Minions upon you! They'll take pleasure in ripping each and every one of you apart!"

Hadley folded his arms and slowly stepped towards the chair as the two soldiers bound the madman's ankles to the front legs of the seat. "The 'Master'?" he asked Henry calmly.

"YES!" Von Blättern roared. "THE MASTER!"

The two soldiers finally moved away from the chair after strapping Von Blättern's head back. They joined the other guards lined at the wall. Lieutenant Hadley slowly walked from one side of the Chamber to the other in silence. "So," he began. "This is the plan; you are about to answer each and every one of my questions with the truth and only the truth."

Henry smiled with wide eyes. "And if I don't?" he asked the warden.

Hadley smiled and approached the electricity box at the wall. He set his hand upon the box's lever. "The doctors call this place the 'Electrical Rehabilitation Facility'. I can promise you that if you choose not to answer my questions, your outlook on pain will alter completely."

Von Blättern let out a wheezing cackle. "I do not fear you, Warden! Nor do I fear this _pain_ you speak of! The Master will come! He will–"

Lieutenant Hadley immediately pulled the lever down. The electricity flowed through the wires and into Von Blättern's body like a river over a waterfall. Henry hollered as the excruciating pain rushed through him. He shook violently. Not one inch of his body was spared. After an entire fifteen seconds, Hadley pulled the lever upwards, ending the electric flow.

Henry continued shaking as the last of the electrical shock faded away. "_Y-y-y-you th-th-think you c-can harm me?_" he said to the warden quietly with a slight grin. "You have no idea _what_ I am! You have no idea _who_ I am!"

"You are an imprudent criminal," said the Lieutenant with a frown. "Born in the rancid pits of Bowerstone Industrial. And it is time to answer my questions. My men and I wish to know what it is that you are ranting about in your cell."

_**Bowerstone Old Quarter, Bowerstone, Kingdom of Albion**_

Bowerstone Old Quarter, which had been completely restored after the Hero of Brightwall's final battle against Logan's oppressive forces, was operating at its typical fast pace. Beggars pleaded for money and food, workers hauled various packages and cargo from one location to the next, bards passionately sang as their fingers danced about their lutes, and children played tag and various games including hide-and-seek and Red Rover.

A large regiment of soldiers marched through the Old Quarter's streets. The activity of the district came to a halt as the soldiers made their way up the roads from the gates. Many hid in their homes and behind large objects. Since the War in the West began, the Royal Army had come to be a feared force in Albion. Children were abducted and trained as soldiers from a young age, women were raped in horrific ways, and men were repeatedly beaten and wrongly accused of horrendous crimes.

Amidst the shadows of Old Quarter's darkest alleys stood two broad, mid-height men wearing long black robes. Each of them wore hoods over their heads, sheathing their identities. The first slowly removed his hood, revealing his pale, gaunt face and dark brown hair. A very noticeable feature about this man was the unique tattoo that had been drawn across his forehead. It was a cultist tattoo – one that appeared to be very sinister…yet beautiful all the same. The distinctive lines that made up the design almost appeared to connect like a spider web. The unique pattern was spread across his entire forehead and dashed over his temples like a bolt of lightning.

The second man slowly removed his hood as well. He had a dark shade of skin and a thin handlebar mustache of the same color. He wore an eye patch over his left eye and had a similar cultist tattoo drawn across his forehead. His hair was long and as black as the shadows.

The first man turned to the second. "Albion is at war with Samarkand, Lee." he said.

Lee slowly turned his head to look at his comrade with his single eye. "Yes it is, Crawford." he replied. "The Kingdom is distracted."

Crawford nodded. "The Lord of the Void has returned on this day." he whispered eerily as we watched the soldiers march over the streets. "The Bronze Gate has been reopened. But there is a problem."

"And what is that?"

Crawford waited a moment before replying. "Henry Von Blättern is confined within maximum-security prison."

Lee took in a shaky breath. "Ravenscar Keep." he muttered.

Crawford slowly pulled his hood back over his head. "It is time to set him free."

Lee nodded and slowly pulled his hood up as well. "Without him, we shall not have a Seer to communicate with the Master from Albion."

"A boat has been prepared. Henry Von Blättern's escape is nigh."


	4. Chapter 3

**You guys rock! Thank you so much for reading! I hope to God that you guys enjoy this chapter. Like always, I own nothing but my original characters. Criticism is welcomed with open arms. **

**So, without further ado, here's Chapter 3!**

**PS - A certain someone is making an appearance in this chapter. *wink***

Chapter 3

_**Bowerstone Castle, Bowerstone, Kingdom of Albion**_

The noise that emitted from the Throne Room nearly caused the castle itself to shake. The New Hero King sat upon his throne, gazing at the massive crowd of civilians that had appeared for Reaver's audience. A line of soldiers stood guard in front of the ropes that blocked the people from the steps that led to the king's throne. The path to the doors was clear as well. The civilians were becoming fidgety, having been waiting for Reaver for twenty minutes. Many were shouting.

The Hero King was formally dressed in his regal attire. His polished chest plate reflected every ounce of light in the entire Throne Room. His thick brown hair was combed into a very formal and stately style, complimenting his mutton chops. His golden crown glimmered in the sunshine that illuminated the room from the windows. The King of Albion possessed a handsome, powerful appearance. His high cheekbones and dignified expressions could cause any woman in Albion to melt within his arms.

The Hero King relaxed against the soft back of his throne. "I'm bloody tired of awaiting Reaver's arrival, Benn." he said to Sir Benn, who was standing beside the throne.

"Have patience, Sire." Benn responded.

"It's been twenty minutes." the king grumbled. "Twenty minutes of waiting and listening to this chaotic noise. If Reaver does not–"

The Throne Room's doors were suddenly thrust open by two soldiers. "Your Majesty!" one of them shouted to the king. "Reaver has arrived!"

The Hero frowned. "Bring him inside!"

Every civilian turned to the doors. The room fell silent as the tall, tyrannical master of Albion's industry stepped inside. He tapped his cane against the floor with every step. His dazzling white suit and hat, soft fur collar, and polished boots reflected his persona – a greedy, selfish, and traitorous business owner.

"It is about bloody time." the king growled.

Reaver made a short, somewhat sarcastic bow as he neared the steps that led to the throne. He flashed a charming grin to the Hero King. "Your Majesty," he began in his deep, pompous tone. "I am honored to be in your presence."

The king dismissed Reaver's words with his hand. "Save it." he muttered. "Why have you requested my attention?"

Reaver nodded and turned his head to face the door. "Bring it inside!" he boomed. Five men then appeared in the doorway, hauling a large wooden cart behind them. Upon the cart rested a large, seemingly cannon-like object of which was covered by a white sheet. Reaver slowly looked back at the King of Albion with another cheeky grin.

"What is it?" asked the Hero King.

"Your Majesty," Reaver began in a loud tone of voice. "Albion's most gallant soldiers have been courageously battling the rancid guerrilla forces of Samarkand for an entire six years. The defense of Aurora is truly one of our top priorities. I commend you for so fearlessly opposing Samarkand's attacks. Kadar Al-Iblis is a foul and immoral ruler; unlike yourself. His men do not fear death. They embrace it!"

The king cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Why not give to them what they so shamelessly accept?"

"I do not understand." the Hero King responded. "That is what we have been trying to do."

Reaver shook his head. "The Royal Army is currently held up at the eastern border of Samarkand. This is a rocky and arid region of dried valleys. Samarkand has the advantage of numbers. They are continuously charging through our men's lines, pushing us farther back every day. We do not have the time or sheer numbers to react properly!"

"Yes, yes!" said the Hero King in frustration. "I know! Do not speak to me of things that I personally manage every day! You are no military leader, Reaver."

"My King," Reaver announced. "I present to you…Albion's first Reaver gun!"

Sir Benn smirked. "Well, that's a creative name." he whispered.

The five workers removed the sheet, revealing the anticipated purpose of Reaver's speech. Many in the crowd gasped. Some whispered things such as "_Whoa_" or "_What is it?_". The object was much like a cannon. Mounted on a pair of large wheels, yet it possessed multiple barrels. In addition, each individual barrel was smaller than the large, singular barrel of a cannon.

"A hand-crank operated, rapid-fire weapon." Reaver explained with a tone of haughtiness. "The first of its kind. It requires just two men to function. One soldier operates the crank, the other loads the cartridge. Each barrel fires–"

The Hero King stood. "You expect me to use this…this _super-weapon_ against Al-Iblis?"

Reaver grinned. "Precisely, Your Majesty."

"Has it been tested?"

"It has been tested more times than you can even imagine! And the results are incredibly successful!"

The King of Albion sighed and threw himself back into his throne. "It is unethical."

"This is _war_." Reaver argued. "And the Reaver gun is the _only_ solution to this conflict. With these weapons, we will be able to propel all charging forces at the eastern border and resume our advance into the heart of Samarkand."

The Hero King frowned. "And how much will it cost to manufacture the required amount of these 'Reaver guns'?"

Reaver grinned. "A mere two million gold pieces."

The crowd immediately went in uproar. Some were beginning to reach over the ropes towards Reaver. The soldiers swiftly knocked them away. The king stood. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed. "This meeting is over! We shall discuss these matters in private tomorrow afternoon with my advisors, Reaver! Report accordingly!"

The former 'Pirate King' snorted. "It would be my honor."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ravenscar Keep, Ravenscar Island, Kingdom of Albion<strong>_

"Why believe the things I say, Warden?" Von Blättern hissed at Hadley. "I am a _madman_! I am unworthy of living in the free world of which you call 'Albion'!"

"It is my duty as an enforcer of the law, Von Blättern. When an individual within this facility – man or woman, mad or sane – threatens the order of the Kingdom, I am obligated to question that individual."

Von Blättern blinked several times before spitting out the most disgusting, horrendous laugh in Albion. "You have nothing, Lieutenant! Nothing at all!"

"Lever!" Hadley hollered.

One of the soldiers pulled down on the lever, releasing another wave of electricity into the prisoner's body. When he released the lever, Henry shook violently in the chair. As he attempted to quell the uncontrollable quaking of his body, he unleashed another howling fit of laughter.

"Who is this 'Master'?" asked the Lieutenant.

"He is the downfall of mankind!" Von Blättern responded. "The APOCALYPSE!"

"State his true name."

"You cannot comprehend who he is! You cannot comprehend _what_ he is!"

"What he is," Hadley growled. "Is a figment of your imagination." Hadley turned to his soldiers. "This man is telling a fictional tale." he said irritably. "I've had enough."

A sly, filthy grin was growing on Henry's face. "And I'm sure you'll be crying 'FICTION!' when the Master's followers are slaughtering your children and raping your wife!"

The Lieutenant turned, eyes ablaze. He approached the chair, slamming his fists down upon Von Blättern's hands. The madman shrieked with joy. "You're enjoying this, you sick bastard." the warden whispered. "Aren't you?"

"I am."

Another soldier suddenly entered the chamber. "Warden!" he called respectfully. "Another prison ship has arrived. Twenty more criminals are to be added to Ravenscar's population! They have been lined up at the docks, prepared for your lecture."

Hadley frowned, his neck cracking several times as he edgily turned back to Henry. "This shall be continued tomorrow."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Frostwood, Tsardom of Snowspire (Northern Wastes)<strong>_

Captain Kazimir Orlov took one step forward with caution. The snow crunched beneath his boot. His men followed from a distance, watching the surrounding region carefully. The dogs remained still.

"Captain," whispered the soldier with the mustache.

"Quiet, Sergeant Balk!" Orlov replied.

"Listen!" Balk insisted.

The three soldiers stopped and lifted their heads, listening intensively. The atmosphere was quiet; just as it had been before. But there was a slight change in the sounds of the wind. It almost seemed to whisper an incoherent message. It was eerie.

"This is not a safe place." stated the taller soldier.

Kazimir scowled. "Sergeant Balk, stay outside and keep watch over the wilderness. Be vigilant. If you spot an assailant, fire immediately without question."

"But, Captain, gunshots attract Frost Balverines!" Balk said.

"Follow my orders!" Orlov turned to the other soldier. "Sergeant Abelev, you're with me."

"Yes, Captain." Abelev replied.

The captain and his subordinate moved into the dome through the archway, leaving Balk outside to keep watch. Nothing had changed since Roman and Anya had been there just hours ago. A gust of wind thrust itself into the exposed faces of the Snowspire soldiers. Orlov and Abelev covered their faces with their arms.

When the wind had passed, Abelev placed a hand on the cold stone walls of the great dome. He traced the ancient patterns that decorated the structure with his index finger. "Old Kingdom architecture!" he whispered in astonishment. "But…Tsar Vladimir confirmed that there was no longer any Old Kingdom remains in the entire nation!"

"Tsar Vladimir lied." Orlov gazed upon the lights that emitted from the three stones. They made a distinctive noise. The sounds did not match any other noise he had ever heard in the past. What was it? "Is this some form of magic?" he said aloud. "Some form of 'Will'?"

Abelev chuckled. "You believe in magic, Captain? You never struck me as that sort of man."

"But look at the lights! They're beautiful!"

"Captain!" Abelev suddenly blurted out.

Orlov jumped a bit, snapping out of his odd trance. "What?"

"Look!" the sergeant pointed towards the center of the dome. "A corpse!"

The corpse of which Anya and Roman had set their eyes upon that morning still lay on the dome's floor. It was battered – mutilated by various animal wounds. The cultist tattoo still made itself visible through the snow. It was almost as if every flake that dared to land on the ink immediately melted. About a yard away from the corpse sat a small book. It appeared to have been dropped not too long ago.

"Poor fellow succumbed to the wrath of Frostwood's inhabitants." Abelev said. "May he rest in peace."

"These wounds were inflicted by wolves." the captain stated. "See the teeth marks? Balverines have large jaws and greater sized teeth. If this man were attacked by a Frost Balverine, he'd be missing limbs."

"Look at that tattoo on his head. Do you think he was a member of some cult?"

The captain nodded. "Perhaps." he traced the tattoo with his thumb, locking the design in his memory. "Fetch that book over there."

"Yes, sir." The sergeant slowly picked up the book and flipped through the pages. "All but one of the pages are empty."

"That's odd."

"There's no doubt it's odd." Abelev said with a frown. "The only text in the entire book is written in some gibberish. Here. Take a look."

Kazimir took the book and flipped to the page containing the mysterious text. "I don't understand."

Suddenly, the cries of Sergeant Balk echoed throughout the quiet airs of Frostwood. "CAPTAIN!" His shouts were followed by the roaring of a gunshot. The barking of the huskies came shortly after, but they were ended shortly. The horses began whinnying loudly.

Captain Orlov dropped the book and raised his cutlass. "Sergeant Balk!" he called. No reply was received. "Sergeant Abelev, check outside!" Again, no reply was received. "Sergeant Abelev!" Orlov turned to find that Abelev was no longer there. All that remained of the soldier was his shako, a flintlock pistol, and a small puddle of blood on the floor. Orlov frowned. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he boomed.

"Think of me as a prisoner of the past," replied a resonant, sinister voice of which belonged to neither of the soldiers. "Who has finally been released into the present."

Kazimir was shaking. The voice had stunned him. For the first time in years, the captain knew fear. He was sweating in the glacial environment of the Northern Wastes. His sword became heavy as though his muscles had suddenly gave out. His shako weighed his head down, and his mind had been completely engulfed by anxiety. _What was speaking to him?_

Orlov took a step back. "Show yourself!" he cried. "Show yourself!"

The voice let out a slow, tranquil chuckle. A figure dropped from the ceiling of the dome, landing on the floor with such refinement and agility that it did not even make a sound. The stranger's arms and legs were completely armored by a uniquely crafted pair of metal gauntlets and leggings. From the waist up, he wore a tattered red cloak and hood with various belts fastened across his torso. His face was completely concealed by an expressionless mask. The mask was decorated with crimson designs that resembled a raging fire near the eyeholes. At the center of the forehead was a small, circular pattern that blended the fire-like designs together. Various cultist symbols ornamented the bottom region of the mask.

Captain Orlov dropped his cutlass. The blade clattered against the stone floor as the masked figure snatched the captain by the throat and held him nearly four feet above the ground. The stranger's talon-like features on the tips of his gauntlet dug into Orlov's skin. His lifeless eyes and golden irises gazed into Kazimir's very soul. The captain's face was reddening.

"I…am…**alive**." said the masked being. "And I have a message for you to carry back to your superiors."


	5. Chapter 4

**It's been a while, guys. Sorry for taking so damn long. The last time I updated this was August! I lost track of time.**

**Anyway, I do hope you'll enjoy this chapter. It's time to focus more on the story's main protagonist - Princess Adelia of Albion. Sorry about the shortness.**

**Criticism is welcomed as usual. I love readers' comments. :)**

Chapter 4

_**Bowerstone Castle, Bowerstone, Kingdom of Albion**_

Hardly an hour had passed since Reaver's shocking conference with the King of Albion. The Reaver gun — Albion's most deadly weapon. What would become of this invention? Surely, the virtuous Hero King would not invest such large sums of gold into the creation of this monstrous artillery. But it could possibly bring about the end of the War in the West.

These great decisions were left for the Hero King to act upon. They did not directly concern the young Princess Adelia.

Adelia had not even been allowed to attend Reaver's audience with her father. Normally, she would have been enraged at this. The King of Albion still thought of her as a small child; an adolescent. In her mind, this was not fair. She was twenty-one years old. She was a grown woman. How long would her father view her as a little girl?

But the princess was not concerned with these problems now. Earlier that morning, Sir Ben Finn informed Adelia that she was a Hero. Or, at least, he _thought_ she was a Hero. She simply couldn't believe it. Moments after Finn departed for Reaver's conference with the king, the princess made way for her bedroom with haste. She scurried up the cold steps near the gardens that led to her chambers. The sun was fading into the never-ending sea of clouds above. Thunder boomed in the distant outskirts of the city. Several raindrops fell to the ground, followed by another dozen.

Two Royal Army soldiers that were posted at the balcony saluted the princess as she passed. "My princess." they addressed simultaneously.

The princess ignored them completely. She rushed into her bedroom and slammed the double doors shut. Rain was already beginning to pound against the windows. She removed her shoes — her beautiful, expensive shoes — and threw one of them directly at the glass vase on the opposite corner of the bedroom. The vase shattered into bits.

Adelia dropped the other shoe to the floor and stormed across the room towards her bed. She could feel the soft warm carpet beneath her bare feet. It calmed her a bit, but not enough. She threw herself into the sea of blankets that were laid elegantly on the bed. She pressed her face into a large pillow. The princess unleashed a bloodcurdling scream. Luckily, the pillow muffled the noise.

She turned onto her back, placing a hand on her forehead. Although she didn't sense an urge to cry, she could feel a single tear running down her cheek. "I'm not a Hero." she whispered to herself. "I'm not…"

The double doors were suddenly pushed open as Ben Finn entered the room. He hurriedly shut the doors after he had slipped inside. "It's bloody cold out there." he said aloud as he turned to face Adelia. "It was a nice sunny day, and all of a sudden it starts raining! It's unbelievable. At least the sun stayed out long enough to light the Throne Room during the conference. Reaver's invented some new artillery weapon. He calls it the 'Reaver gun'. That man's arrogance knows no bounds!"

"Please, just leave me be." the princess murmured.

"Leave you be?" Ben asked curiously, leaning against the fireplace. "Why would I do that? I thought I instructed you to stay inside the training room. What happened?"

"You said I was a Hero."

"You might be." Ben let out a long sigh, taking a few steps forward and sitting himself down in front of the fireplace. "Almost every human being on this planet wishes to be a Hero."

"Well, I don't!" Adelia sat up from the blankets and glared at her trainer.

Ben seemed to ignore the princess's juvenile fit of anger. "I remember the first time I saw your father in action. I was stationed right at the heart of the Mourningwood swamps! My regiment had nearly been wiped out by the Hollow Men! Every night, hordes of them would blast through the fort's barricades and slaughter tens of our soldiers. We were outnumbered! Doomed! But—"

"But then my father arrived and saved the day." Adelia interrupted, dramatically rolling her eyes. "I've heard this story dozens of times."

Finn shrugged. "There's no harm in hearing it again. Anyway, as I was saying, we were completely outnumbered!" Ben stood to his feet, acting out the situation as though he was in a theater. "But one afternoon, our old military associate, Sir Walter Beck, arrived at the fort's gates with your father behind him. Walter claimed he was a Hero. And after the first wave of Hollow Men arrived, we believed him. Your dad started waving his arms around and blowing the bastards up with magic!"

It was difficult for someone to resist the urge to laugh at Ben's stories. His tone of voice, accompanied by his bizarre actions, made him one of the most entertaining individuals in the castle. Even Adelia could not help but cover her mouth and giggle.

"I knew I could make you laugh." Ben said with a wink. He sat down at the edge of the bed. "Now…tell me what's on your mind. You said you don't want to be a Hero. Why?"

Adelia's giggling stopped instantly. She placed her hands on her lap. "I…I'm too scared." she breathed.

"What was that?" Ben asked, leaning forward. "I couldn't hear you."

"_I'm too scared!_" Adelia said in a louder tone of voice. "I'm not strong enough to become a Hero! I'm not strong enough to lead a war, or kill demons, or use magic!"

Ben sprung from the bed. "Sure you are!" he exclaimed. "Did you see what you did down there in the training room earlier today? You shattered a blade with a single thrust! And that's just the beginning! Adelia, the people love you! They look up to you!"

"And that's exactly what I don't want!" the princess folded her arms and removed herself from the bed, walking towards one of the windows. She watched various drops of rain as they slid down the glass. "I'm not ready. Being a Hero…being a queen; I can't do it. My father did extraordinary things! And so did my grandfather! I could never even hope to match their accomplishments!"

"You are going to be a great queen." Ben stated. "And you will be just as great a Hero…that is, if you _are_ a Hero."

The princess sighed. "I'm just not strong enough."

There was a short moment of silence between the two. Ben finally spoke up. "You've heard of the Hero of Oakvale, haven't you?"

Adelia nodded without turning to face Ben. "Yes," she replied. "Of course. He slew Jack of Blades and saved Albion from total destruction. It's one of the most famous stories in existence."

"You know where he started off?"

The princess ran her hand along the polished windowsill. "No."

Ben leaned against the fireplace. "He started off as a peasant boy. He started off as a weakling. He was small and defenseless." He leaned forward a bit. "Don't you understand, princess? He evolved from a small and poor kid into the most powerful and famous Hero of the era! And all that drove him was his craving for vengeance!"

Adelia turned around and looked directly into Finn's eyes. "What do I have to drive me?" she asked sternly.

"Open your eyes, Adelia." Ben responded. "Stop being so bloody immature. You will one day be the Queen of Albion. You _are_ strong enough to rule as this nation's monarch. And you _are_ strong enough to be as great a Hero as your predecessors. The people expect grand things from you…and they are right to do so. If you are truly a Hero, you will be the best this world has ever known. I can see the power within you when I look into your eyes. But you are keeping that power contained, and you are not allowing it to expand to its true potential. I believe you _are _a Hero, Adelia."

"But what if I'm not?"

Ben grinned. He moved away from the fireplace and approached the double doors. He calmly placed his hands on the doorknobs and opened them. The sound of the rain pounding against the ground outside rushed into the room. Ben turned his head to face Adelia. "There is only one way to find out."


End file.
